Farewell
by Ascari
Summary: Being deadly wounded, Joe says goodbye to Methos


_**Standard disclaimer: the concept of Immortality and the Immortals belong to Rysher and are copyrighted by them. This story is for fun, not for profit.**_

_This story is written without a beta (as I wrote before, she is working on my other story), and English is not my native language. So, please be kind! (As you can see, I still have holidays and because of this much time to write :-)_

_This is once again a relatively short fic; the song 'Bonny Portmore' on the 'Highlander Endgame' soundtrack inspired me to this (I heard it the whole time I wrote the story)_

_Hope you like it!_

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**Farewell**

A loud shot rang through the room. As in slow motion, Methos saw a bullet fly towards him; he wanted to jump out of reach but found himself unable to move. A second later, burning pain spread in his chest, and he was flying backwards to the floor. The last thing he heard before darkness took him was a man's voice screaming in pain – Joe.

There was only darkness first, no pain, no fear – nothing; only the slight feeling that he had not enough time left. A metallic flavour filled his mouth, and he heard loud noise - the beating of his own heart as he realized some moments later. Opening his eyes, he became aware that he was lying in a puddle of dark-red blood on the floor. Moaning in pain, he sat up, and looked down at his chest: his shirt was full of blood although his wounds had almost healed. Apparently, he had not been shot only once but multiple times instead.

Suddenly, he noticed a slight sound coming from his left side – a moan. Looking in this direction, his heart almost stopped as he discerned Joe's form lying on the floor, blood on his chest and at the floor around him. No, Methos thought in panic as began to crawl on his knees to his friend, ignoring the pain, this was causing him. As he finally reached him, he saw that Joe was conscious, looking with pain-filled eyes directly into his.

"Joe."

"The bloody bastard got me," Joe moaned and blood bubbles appeared on his lips. "Looks like I'm too old for this shit."

Methos felt his heart beat in fear as he got a closer look at Joe. As a former doctor, Methos knew at first sight that it was hopeless – there was nothing he could do for his friend; Joe's whole chest was one single bloody mess, and the blood on Joe's lips indicated some serious injuries. Methos guessed that Joe would only have few minutes left – it was a wonder that he still was conscious.

"How is it?" Joe asked almost no audible with a pain shaking voice.

Methos looked in Joe's face; inside of him he felt his stomach knot. "Nothing serious," he lied as he forced an encouraging smile on his face. "I call an ambulance and everything will be fine..."

"Liar," Joe whispered as he managed a brave smile. "I'm going to die." The last sentence was a statement, not a question.

"Joe, I..."

"It's ok, Methos, I always knew that my time would come someday... that Death would be knocking on my door to get my sorry little ass."

"I'm so sorry, Joe," Methos managed sadly.

"You needn't be... I had a great live, great friends, and I regret nothing." Joe raised his right hand, took Methos' into his and pressed it. "Tell Amy how much I love her, and that I really wanted to be her dad," he then whispered with an already weakening voice.

Methos felt incredible sorrow and loss as he held onto Joe's hand. He could see the dark shadows of death blur his friend's eyes as he listened to his words. Realizing that these were his last, he suddenly felt very old and lonely; his eyes began to burn, and a single tear ran down his check.

Joe smiled weakly with bloodied lips at him, and raised his other hand to wipe away the tear. "And you say you don't care, Old Man... could have fooled me."

"I don't," Methos whispered back as another tear joined the first, "I only got something in my eyes."

"Liar," Joe whispered before he continued with a weak, but serious voice, "promise me one last think, Methos". Joe's eyes focused once again at Methos' face, "promise me to guide MacLeod... be there for him because I no longer can... he needs someone who looks after his head."

Methos swallowed as he starred into Joe's pain-twisted face.

"Please," he heard the weak whisper.

Feeling his throat tightening, and almost not able to speak, he finally managed a sad nod. "I promise," he then whispered with a trembling voice. "I promise."

"Good," he saw the relieved smile on Joe's pale face. "You are a good man, Methos... I feel honoured to have known you, to have been your friend..."

Methos watched Joe then relax and stare at the wall behind him. A second later, he shuddered and focused once again at Methos. "It's so cold... so cold, I'm so terrible tired...I can feel the darkness claiming me".

"Joe," Methos cried as hot tears now were running down his face while he hold onto Joe's hand. "I'm here, Joe. I'm still with you... please stay with me, don't leave me alone."

Joe closed his eyes and Methos almost believed Joe to be gone, as he heard Joe whisper his name. Suddenly, Joe's eyes opened and focused on Methos again, "watch your head."

Blood floated down his mouth as he almost no audible continued, "farewell my friend... don't forget me". A shudder ran through Joe's body, then he lay absolutely still – dead.

Methos looked with tear filled eyes at his friend; then he raised his hand to close Joe's death eyes. "Farewell, Joe."

END.


End file.
